They Tried Their Hands at Stew
by Meddwl
Summary: When Legolas and Gimli are left horseless and at the mercy of a spring storm they take refuge with some unfriendly Rohirrim. Fortunately, Legolas has a very special brooch and a talent for making stew under the worst of conditions, Gimli catches on and the Rohirrim haven't a chance in Arda...


Since people seem to enjoy Legolas cooking and I wanted to try my hand at a Gimli and Legolas "out-wandering" story.

Nota Bene: Lothron is the Sindarin name for the Elven equivalent of May, the date is in Shire Reckoning.

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 **They Tried Their Hands at Stew**

* * *

 _Rohan, Westfold  
Lothron, 3020 Third Age_

The sharp slanting rain beat down mercilessly on the odd pair that walked wearily through the new grass.

One was tall and slender, his long hair dripping and his grey cloak hanging limply about his shoulders. His companion was short and stocky and his opposite in nearly every way. The Elf stood a good eighteen hands or more from the ground while the Dwarf trudged along at about thirteen, more or less.

The Elf had long golden hair just obscuring slightly leaf-shaped ears, his eyes were grey as the twilight and twinkled merrily even in the rain as he sang under his breath. He walked lightly, his fair face turned towards the heavens as though enjoying the cool droplets that touched his face.

The Dwarf thumped stolidly beside him, his dark hair and beard wet through and through and his coal black eyes looking tiredly at the ground as he vainly sought relief from the cold. At times his eyes flicked half-amused, half-irritated at his companion though he had said nothing as yet.

A dim light flickered through the driving rain ahead and the travelers pressed on with renewed speed at the sight of shelter, even the Elf seemed refreshed and he began to sing more loudly.

"… _Past the rushes, past the reeds,_

 _Past the marsh's waving weeds,_

 _Through the mist that riseth white_

 _Up from mere and pool at night!_

 _Follow, follow stars that leap_

 _Up the heavens cold and steep;_

 _Turn when dawn comes over land…"_

The Dwarf turned a glittering eye on his friend.

"I believe I know that song, do I not?"

The Elf ceased his singing and turned his laughing gaze upon his friend.

"Perhaps, dear Gimli! I wonder, did your father memorize it as he floated away in a barrel towards Laketown?"

"That is the song you wine-lovers sang while rolling your beloved barrels?"

"It is a song for many things," returned the Elf.

"But, yes it is used for rolling the barrels away towards Laketown. In all fairness, if we had known Thorin's company was listening we might have sung differently."

"And if my father was not escaping from your clutches he might have better appreciated the melody."

"If your father had not been wandering in our forest or Thorin had been less stubborn he might not have had to escape in a barrel. But this talk of might-have-beens will neither feed nor dry us, see we are nearly to the light."

The friendly banter ceased and they drew on their hoods as the twain reached a long-low roofed house surrounded by barns and stables.

The Elf reached a long-fingered hand up and rapped smartly on the thick door. There was silence for a moment before the sound of feet approached.

"Who is it that knocks?" asked a voice in Westron.

"Two travelers who ask shelter from the rain." answered the Elf in the same language.

The door opened slowly revealing a tall, fair-haired man holding a spear before him. When he saw the two his mouth opened slightly but he laid aside the weapon and allowed them to enter.

Cold water ran off in showers as they took off their cloaks revealing their faces. The man sighed when he saw a dwarf and an Elf calmly standing before him though he had guessed at their respective races from the moment he opened the door.

"Dry yourselves off by the fire," he said tersely, "We haven't much food, be glad you have a place to sleep."

The pair bowed politely ignoring his less than hospitable tone as they made their way to the welcome warmth.

"Well, we _are_ rather unusual" sighed the Elf, "At least he didn't send us back outside like that farmer in Eastfold."

"I suppose you are right," muttered the dwarf holding his generous beard up to the fire while the Elf wrung the water from his sopping hair. The dwarf shot a wry glance at his friend.

"You are rather a sight, Legolas. I think most people expect Elves to be perfect, come rain, shine or hail."

"And they expect dwarves to be dirty and ill-kempt even in perfect weather?" retorted Legolas.

"I wouldn't mind what they thought if they shared something to eat, I don't suppose we have much left?"

"Just enough to get us to Helm's Deep, I wonder if they could be persuaded?"

"With Elvish magic?"

"With subtlety and cunning…you are a fair cook my friend."

"I am an excellent cook, I'll have you know! My stews are famous among my kin," growled Gimli loudly, attracting the attention of the seated Rohirrim.

"Indeed," continued the Elf in a ringing voice that could be heard all throughout the hall, "Have I ever shown you how to make stew from my Elven brooch?"

Gimli stared at his friend aghast.

"Are you alright?" he whispered anxiously, "Perhaps you hit your head harder than we thought yestereve?"

Legolas laughed loudly and cheerfully.

"I am fine" he whispered to the distraught dwarf, "Watch and learn."

He turned to the man who had let them in and asked if he might borrow a cauldron. The man looked at him oddly but he had one fetched and filled with water at the Elf's request. Perhaps his curiosity overrode his caution.

Legolas gave him a dazzling smile and set the heavy pot easily on the hook over the open fire. Carefully he undid a beautiful leaf-shaped brooch. It glittered in the light of the fire and a single word in scrolling elven script winked in the light as he dropped it into the kettle.

Several men, three women and a child all leaned forward anxiously to watch the Elf's strange doings.

"It is very good strew, an Elven archer from the Greenwood invented it many centuries ago," said Legolas.

"It is surprisingly wholesome but alas, it would be even better if we had some onions for it…"

One of the women turned, muttering to herself. When she came back she had a board full of chopped onions.

Legolas smiled again and slid them into the pot. He gave it a couple more stirs.

Then Gimli spoke grinning at his friend.

"It was actually a dwarf that invented this, friend Elf. We always thought a hunk or two of roast mutton improved the flavor."

This time the dour man hastened away.

Gimli happily dropped the well-seasoned meat into the cauldron.

"I believe we used to add carrots on occasion…"

"I have heard that the hobbits favor potatoes as well!"

"The Gondorians always add peas, they say it rounds out the flavor."

A fervent and large group of curious Rohirrim watched carefully as the stew bubbled merrily.

"Salt is never a bad idea…"

"And a few well-dried herbs and some good red wine work wonders."

"As does a mug of ale to wash it down…" finished Gimli looking longingly at the savory stew that had all been created by the Elven brooch.

It was a merry company that sat together that night and ate the marvelous stew. The men wondered about the wise Elf that had invented the delicious stew. The women praised the cooking skills of Elves and dwarves alike. The children were attracted to both Elf and dwarf, both had one comfortably ensconced in their laps while they told strange and fascinating stories of faraway lands.

When the night drew on and the great pot had been emptied the children were sent off to sleep and the companions laughed and talked with the adults as they cleaned the dirt from the bowls and mugs.

Last of all they cleaned the cauldron and Legolas rinsed his brooch free from the stew.

The morning dawned bright and clear as Legolas and Gimli waved farewell to the Rohirrim and set off again across the fields of Westfold.

Gimli looked at the prince anxiously.

"You are sure that Arod will be waiting for us at this meeting place you invented?"

Legolas smiled.

"Arod will be there as surely as the great and wise Elven archer that invented Brooch Soup walks beside you."

Gimli said nothing, but his dark eyes gleamed with laughter.

* * *

This is of course a retelling of the classic Stone Soup children's story. I have no idea who first invented it but I have run into it in a number of places, the latest being a Chronicles of Narnia fanfic. If you like Narnia check out Rose and Psyche's stories they are quite good and the catalyst for this.

I am _not_ an expert on horses but from what I have researched 18 hands would be about six feet and 13 would be about 4 feet 5 inches. Feel free to correct me if I am wrong. This is book verse so Legolas is tall, he is an Elf, it is ridiculous to think he would shorter than a man (I have noticed this disturbing trend at times.)

Enjoy (this is what happens when I listen to Enya while writing)

\- Shire Rose

P.S. The song is of course from the Barrel Song that the Elves sang in the Hobbit. Legolas' use of the term "we" is of course relative, I am not implying that he was personally rolling them.


End file.
